The Slow Seven: Let's make Advent quiet, calm, and meaningful, okay?

Hi. I’m writing this from another Dark-At-Four-Thirty afternoon in northern New Jersey. This has been one of those weeks when I’ve found myself at the same medical building with my kids four times in three days. What is it about this time of year that can feel so relentless? Not just in the amount of shows and parties and shopping spectaculars, but in the viruses and interventions and school projects and exhausted humans everywhere I go. This is a fascinating season because we all go into it knowing that more will be demanded than we can possibly accomplish. And for those of us who hope to connect with the spirit of the story of the birth of Christ, everything else that is required—the shopping, the parties, the concerts and nutcrackers to attend — can feel like holiday excess that actually keeps us from the meaning-making our souls long for. 

And then there’s the darkness. The short days and long nights can either be a burden or can invite us to an inner stillness that can be hard to find in the bright energy of summertime. Darkness is its own particular gift in this season of Advent. Here, in the dark afternoons and silent mornings, we can choose something different than the chaotic to-do list our responsibilities require of us. My act of rebellion isn’t in refusing to send my holiday cards. (I’ll be addressing those soon.) Or in rejecting the consumerism of the season. (I definitely made some black Friday purchases.) But there is a kind of rebellion found in the reordering of my soul, when I practice being still in a season that asks me to move from event to event and address envelopes and make homemade gifts for all the teachers. My rebellion is in the act of being still, sitting in the darkness of the early mornings of Advent, lighting my Advent candles, plugging in my twinkling lights, and sitting by the fireplace long enough that Sir Givret the Cat trusts that my lap is a safe place to cuddle.

How are you rebelling against the hustle of the season? How are you pushing back against all the things we’re supposed to do? Maybe you need to hear someone remind you that you don’t have to shop, that you have permission to say no to the tasks that will not bring joy. I give you permission to skip holiday cards or parties this year if you just can’t swing them. And I give you permission to savor the twinkly lights, drink tasty tea or hot cocoa as much as possible, and sit long enough on your couch that your cat trusts your lap. Here’s a list of seven meaningful resources you may be able to use in your own acts of quiet Advent rebellion.